


at the shrine of friendship

by restless5oul



Series: yesterday we were just children [5]
Category: Formula 1 RPF, GP2 Series RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Light-Hearted, Touchy-Feely, brief hand holding, drunken antics, vomiting mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: when all seems lost, there's always vodka.





	at the shrine of friendship

**Author's Note:**

> i seem to be in the mood to keep it light at the moment. but you know, i'll inevitably be back to the angst soon.
> 
> [title is from drink with me from les mis]

“Okay. There’s good news, and there’s bad news. Which would you like first?” Juan announced, almost as loudly as his entry through the pantry window, sauntering into the room, actually making Charles jump as he plonked his bag down on the table behind him, making a very loud clattering noise. He turned to see Juan looking somewhat peevish, Jüri following behind him, lugging his own bag, which he dumped with a similar loud bang. Whatever they had found was evidently very heavy.

“Whenever you say that, that’s never the case. It’s always really bad news, and then slightly less bad news,” Mick complained, drawing his hands from a large serving bowl filled with soapy water, which he had reclaimed as a way to try wash their clothes.

Between the limited amount the other three boys had brought with them, and the fact that Charles was borrowing theirs, they had all started to smell a little. Several chairs and a couple of tables on the other side of the room had been used as a makeshift airer, the sopping wet clothes hanging off them, creating a puddle on the floor which they hoped wouldn’t damage the wood. While Mick had elected himself for the job of the actually washing the clothes, Charles was tasked with turning them over at regular intervals, and folding them once they were dry, trying really hard not to feel weird about handling his friends’ underwear.

“That’s not true!” Juan protested, seemingly forgetting about his impending announcement in his desire to defend his honour. And Jüri was too busy throwing himself onto the nearest sofa, massaging his shoulders once he landed with a thump.

“It kind of is,” Charles shrugged, even though he hadn’t known Juan more than a few months – he knew this much.

“Don’t side with him just ‘cause he thinks he’s in charge because he’s the oldest,” Juan moaned, throwing his hands up in the air.

“ _I’m_ the oldest!” Charles corrected him, not appreciating how he seemed to forget that he was almost twenty, while Juan was just eighteen.

“Whatever,” Juan scoffed, waving his hand at Charles.

“Can you just tell them already?” Jüri whined into the cushions of his sofa, not even bothering to raise his head.

“Okay, so, um,” and Charles could tell by Juan's sudden change in demeanour that whatever he had to say wasn’t good. Mick seemed to noticed too because he stopped wiping his hands on his jeans, frozen like someone he was a film someone had hit pause on, “There wasn’t any food left. We couldn’t find any.”

His words were met by silence. The stunned kind that hovered over them while they tried to digest what he had just said. Charles couldn’t quite believe it, and he certainly didn’t want to.

“Are you being serious?” Mick asked, staring wide eyed as his friend, who was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, deliberately not meeting their shocked gazes.

Juan just nodded.

“It looked like someone else had been there in between now and our last trip. There isn’t another supermarket nearby that hasn’t been cleared out. There might be one further away, but we didn’t want to start searching aimlessly. We don’t know what it’s like further away,” Jüri explained, sitting up to join the conversation, saving his friend from having to elaborate.

“We don’t have much left,” Charles said, thinking of the single row of tins they had left, and the single packet of vitamins. The only thing they had in abundance was medical supplies. But they could hardly resort to eating painkillers and antiseptic wipes. At his friends' stares he realised that this comment wasn’t helpful.

“We’ll figure something out okay? We’ll go back out tomorrow and find something. There’s plenty of streets and stuff where we haven’t looked yet,” Juan tried to reassure the rest of them, unusually for him taking up the mantle of leader, trying to look calm and like it wasn’t worrying him. It certainly scared Charles a little. In the back of his mind this was always his fear. He learnt pretty quickly that most of the food, that wasn't rotting on the shop floors, had been taken pretty quickly within days of the outbreak, or the supermarkets were no-go zones, completely overrun by zombies. They couldn’t realistically live like this forever; things were going to become untenable eventually. He just didn’t want to believe that would happen. 

“Please tell me that’s the bad news,” Mick groaned, running his hands through his hair, clumps of bubbles deposited from his fingers onto the top of his head.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry,” Juan’s face broke into an uneasy smile.

“So what’s the good news?” Charles asked, a little afraid of what the answer might be.

“This was Juan’s idea I’d like to point out,” Jüri piped up, seemingly trying to distance himself from whatever decision had been made.

“You agreed though!”

“Yeah, but it was you who thought of it!”

“Anyways,” Juan stuck his tongue out at Jüri before unzipping his bag and pulling out a glass bottle Charles didn’t recognise, “While there wasn’t any food, we did find this. And lots more like it.”

Tilting his head to one side, Charles tried to read the label on the bottle that Juan was holding, but Mick beat him too it.

“Vodka?!” he exclaimed incredulously, everything in his tone indicating that he thought this was a very bad idea. Juan’s mischievous grin clearly showed that he thought the complete opposite.

“Oh come on, lighten up Schumacher. The world is literally ending around us and you’re telling me that doesn’t make you want to get blind drunk,” he placed the bottle down on the table, before planting his hands on his hips, emphasising his point, “Jüri agrees with me.”

At first, the blonde hair boy looked offended at being dragged onto his side of the argument, probably after seeing Mick’s reaction. But his face betrayed his true feelings.

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to,” he suggested lightly, making Juan smirk.

“See!” he said triumphantly as Mick looked around looking hopeless, like he was the only sane person left in the room. He locked eyes with Charles, appealing for some help, for someone to take his side. Charles might have, but he didn’t actually think it was a terrible idea. It made him feel anxious and restless, cooped up most days, and he would really like to not think about the apocalypse raging on outside their door for a little while.

“Sorry Mick,” he said, lifting up his hands in mock surrender. That seemed to be the final straw for the German, who groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“This is going to end very badly,” he whined, but Charles knew that meant a victory for Juan – who also seemed to think so, as he high fived himself.

Mick insisted on finishing the washing and eating dinner before Juan started handing out the shot glasses, and Charles backed him up this time. But several hours later their dinner plates lay scattered across the floor, completely cleaned of their food. Jüri and Mick were sat cross legged in the middle of the floor playing some card game he didn’t understand that required them to take shots every so often. Juan was refereeing, a glass of God knows what in his hand, which he also seemed to be having to take swigs off whenever something happened. Charles sat on the nearest sofa, watching the proceedings feeling nicely buzzed, but keeping his half empty glass away from Juan, who seemed to be enjoying mixing different spirits without telling everyone else.

“You’re cheating!” Jüri shouted, probably louder than he meant to, pointing at Mick accusingly as he knocked back another glass full.

“No I’m not!” Mick protested, hugging his cards into his chest, pouting at his friend in an making Charles laugh quietly, so unlike any other expression he had seen on his face before.

“Tell him Juan!” Jüri swung his arm out to point at his friend who was in the process of trying not to spill anything as he refilled his own glass which was balanced between his legs. In his quest for justice Jüri’s stray arm knocked both his and Mick’s glasses over, spilling alcohol all over the cards that sat between them.

“Well now you’ve drowned the cards, so I think that warrants another penalty,” Juan said with a tut, but unable to hide the slur from his words, picking up one of the sodden cards and examining it disapprovingly.

“It’s alright, we’re playing Go Fish,” Mick quipped, making him and Jüri laugh in a way that suggested his joke was a lot funnier than it really was. Juan just swatted him on the back of the head, and Charles rather agreed with that sentiment.

However, it prompted Mick to launch himself at Juan, tackling him to the ground playfully, the cards and drinks forgotten as they rolled around on the floor, fighting, but with no real malice or intent to harm.

Jüri scrambled out of the way quick sharp, teetering as he got to his feet, but successfully making his way over to Charles, plonking himself down onto the seat beside him. His head lolled against Charles’ shoulder, making him smile as he reached over to ruffle his hair.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“Oh, I feel awesome,” Jüri said enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up as though to prove his point, still watching their friends tussling.

The two of them sat for a while, listening to Juan’s shrieks, and Mick’s empty threats, their minds elsewhere.

“Mick wasn’t always like this you know,” Jüri said suddenly, snapping Charles back to reality.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked, a little confused.

“Well not like _this_ , obviously, he’s not always drunk. I mean like he is now, now all this crap happened,” Jüri waved his hands trying to illustrate his point.

Charles just hummed in response, trying not to seem too interested in what he was saying, lest he get the wrong idea, but actually dying to know what he meant. He had always got the sense from Mick that losing his old life had been especially tough on him but he did his very best not to let it show. However, he had no prior experience to gauge that assumption on.

“He was actually more like this. Juan and him used to do mental things sometimes. It was me who had to tell them no. _Me_! If you can believe it,” he laughed like the notion was the most unbelievable thing he had ever heard, but somehow Charles didn’t find it too hard to wrap his head around. There was something in Mick’s eyes sometimes that told him there was a time where he didn’t have a care in the world, or a single responsibility on his shoulders.

“He used to laugh a lot more,” Jüri said, and this time he sounded a lot more upset than he had before, and Charles saw that he was chewing on his lip, staring at his folded hands. He reached an arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick one armed hug.

“This has just made us all grow up a lot quicker than we would have liked,” Charles said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jüri said softly, looking across at Juan and Mick, who were now lying on the sofa opposite them. Juan’s feet were kicking dangerously close to Mick’s face, as he seemed to be trying to either take his shoes off, or tie his laces together. It was impossible to say which when Mick was laughing more than anything else, and his uncoordinated hands weren’t doing much at all.

“One of you could help me instead of sitting there cuddling!” Juan said, as Mick grabbed hold of his shin, glaring at Charles, who just remembered that he still had his arm around Jüri.

“Hey that reminds me!” Jüri exclaimed excitedly, jumping up very quickly, “Me and Juan were thinking that you an-…”

He cut himself off rather suddenly, his skin paling at an alarming rate, one hand covering his mouth, the other clutching his stomach. Charles knew that look on his face. And so did the two brawling boys on the other side of the room apparently, because they stopped what they were doing and watch, the entire room frozen for a moment.

“Uh oh,” Mick said as Juan got to his feet, just in time to follow Jüri into the bathroom, which he bolted into at an impressive speed. There was silence, and then the unmistakable sound of retching a few seconds later.

“It’s okay! He made it to the toilet!” Juan called, his voice just audible. Charles was relieved at that, cleaning up vomit first thing in the morning was not exactly a task he would relish in. Wrinkling his noise, trying to ignore the sounds from the bathroom he moved to the middle of the room and begin collecting the playing cards and empty glasses. Though he hadn’t drunk half as much as his friends, his head still felt a little fuzzy, and it span as he stood up.

“Want some help?” a voice said from above his head, and Charles looked up from where he was crouching to see Mick standing over him, looking a little soberer than he had a few minutes ago, but a lopsided grin still plastered across his face.

“Please.”

Clumsily, Mick helped Charles gather up the glasses, successfully managing to not break any, which was some feat considering the way he stumbled into the kitchen, dragging his feet, tripping over them as he went. Charles followed behind, dumping the soaked playing cards straight into the bucket they used as a sort of bin – not that they ever had much to waste but empty cans.

“They were completely ruined,” he said, when Mick shot him a look. The glasses tumbled into the sink out of his hands, the sound making Charles wince, almost certain Mick would have cut his hands. But when he approached there wasn’t a broken glass in sight.

“We’ll wash them in the morning,” Mick said staring at them distastefully, pausing before saying, “I don’t feel so good right now. I think I need to go to bed.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Charles agreed, noticing how Mick’s forehead gleamed a little with the shine of sweat, “You’re not going to throw up are you?”

“No, no,” he shook his head rapidly, clearly not a smart move, as he clutched at the worktop, dizziness taking over.

“Come on,” Charles said, holding onto Mick around his torso, guiding him to his sofa, without much protests. As soon as he managed to get him sat down, Mick immediately went to lie down, trying to reach for the blanket blindly behind his back, but failing to do so.

“You can’t sleep in your clothes,” Charles laughed as Mick still struggled to pull the covers over himself, his eyes now closed, that frown he usually wore while he slept already present on his face.

“Sure I can,” he mumbled, finally getting hold of the covers, and trying to tug at them, but to no avail, “You’re sat on the covers.”

“No that’s you,” Charles chuckled again, watching Mick huff a little, trying to twist his body and pull at the same time, to wrench the covers out from underneath himself, “At least take your shoes off.”

“Fine,” he said, opening his eyes again, and sitting up to untie his laces and kick his shoes off, as Charles worked the blankets free, handing them to him when he made to lie down again.

“Thanks,” Mick smiled, pulling the blankets up to his chin, trying to get comfortable.

Charles sat for a moment, perhaps a moment too long, waiting to be sure that Mick wasn’t also going to take a trip to the bathroom – from which Juan and Jüri still hadn’t emerged. He was lying on his side now, but his eyes were still open.

“I’m going to regret this in the morning aren’t I?” he said quietly, sounding a little rueful.

“Yeah, probably.”

There was another beat in which Charles still did not move.

“I wish…” Mick muttered, all his words running into one and fading quickly so Charles couldn’t really be sure what he had said.

“You wish what?” Charles asked, looking down at his friend, wondering whether this was just some drunken rambling that wasn’t supposed to make any sense.

“I wish I didn't feel like I have to stop anything else bad from happening and take care of everyone, like it’d be all my fault if something did happen. You know? Like I can’t ever relax, in case something happens. It's exhausting,” he turned his face a little to look at Charles, his expression imploring him to understand. And he did, to a degree. Though he suspected that he would not be saying all of this, had Mick not been more than a little intoxicated. 

“You don’t have to feel like that. We’re all here to help you,” Charles tried to assure him, unable to stop himself from reaching out and patting the back of Mick’s hand, jumping a little when he gripped it tightly in return.

“You’re so nice. My mum would have liked you, you’re so polite. She always liked polite people. Always said I should be politer,” he said, a happy sigh underlining his words, his eyes drifting closed, a small smile on his face. It warmed Charles' heart to hear him talk about his family, in terms beyond his morbid fears and regrets, but he didn’t fail to notice how he referred to his mother in the past tense.

“She sounds lovely,” he said softly, though he was fairly sure that Mick had fallen asleep by this point, a suspicion confirmed when he didn’t stir when Charles pulled his hand from his grip. He reached out and ran his fingers through Mick’s hair, feeling how soft it was beneath his fingers, before he caught himself and came to his senses, standing just as Juan popped his head around the door.

“Could you help me? Jüri’s fallen asleep and he’s too heavy for me to carry on my own,” he asked, looking a little harassed. Charles just laughed and nodded. He probably should have been annoyed or frustrated about having to take care of his drunk friends. But the normalcy of it all was the best thing on earth as far as he was concerned.


End file.
